


The Silent Disco Club

by HereInTheLaterNow



Series: It's Never Easy, Is It? [1]
Category: My Time At Portia (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Bad Poetry, Coming In Pants, Dialogue Light, Dirty Dancing, Dom/sub Undertones, Dry Humping, Dry Orgasm, Erotic Poetry, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, HIM - Freeform, Hickeys, I Wrote This While Listening to Carly Rae Jepsen's Music, JUST, Little Dialogue, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, No Smut, One Shot, Other, Philosophy, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Romantic Poetry, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Slow Romance, Slut Shaming, The L Word - Freeform, as shown by my love of gust and higgins and tody and albert my favorite type of man is Bastard, barnarock boys, but in a long sleeved shirt, but like in large air quotes, called silent disco because i think those clubs are cool, degrading, do people read these tags or am i free to be a degenerate here, gender neutral builder, he almost says he loves you, he's a little rough, him ya'know, i got weirdly poetic writing this, i seriously imagine barnarock to be like an oasis town in peru or somewhere pretty, im on my romantic shizz, its tagged as explicit because of the naughty words, just like, light slut shaming, mood, self indulgent barnarock higgins day dream, spit swapping, sun kissed, that is a fan fucking tastic tag who did that, the idea of soulmates, well...no full on smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:14:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23069062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HereInTheLaterNow/pseuds/HereInTheLaterNow
Summary: He preferred not to talk sometimes, he wasn't the most articulate man in Portia. You and Higgins dance with no music besides the melodies in your heads. A short one-shot.@ Risuu, thanks for the kind words and inspiration. Hope y'all enjoy this it wasn't supposed to take this long.
Relationships: Builder/Higgins (My Time At Portia)
Series: It's Never Easy, Is It? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1713430
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	The Silent Disco Club

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Risuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Risuu/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Bite](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17570141) by [Risuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Risuu/pseuds/Risuu). 



> Inspired by Risuu's "Bite", which is the first fanfic for this fandom I read. I was cockblocked so now I will be the cockblocker. This was supposed to be sexy, why did I add angst.

Song suggestions to read this with: **"All Eyes On You"** by St. Lucia, **"Modern Hearts"** by The Knocks feat. St. Lucia, **"Ride or Die"** by The Knocks feat. Foster The People, **"All This Madness" (Genji Yoshida Remix)** by Sam Smith, **"Talk to Myself"** by Avicii, **"Tokyo Ghetto"** by Eve, **"Something to Believe In"** by Great Good Fine Ok feat. St. Lucia, **"想いきり (Feel)"** by indigo la End, **"Missing"** **(Todd Terry Remix)** by Everything But The Girl, **"Lazy Lies"** by Capital Cities.

* * *

Warnings: Hickeys, dry-humping, dirty dancing (ish), you drink alcohol but do not get drunk...just kinda tipsy, spit swapping (nothing gross, trust me if there's one thing I hate its spit), teasing, degrading,  
Includes: romance, dancing, little dialogue in this one, no plot (none, sorry), this assumes that you are from Barnarock, he's a little rough with you, soft yet hard Higgins, possessive Higgins.

* * *

His lips were on your collarbone. He placed hesitant kisses to your skin, enough to send a dull shock of electricity up to the area just below your ear. His breath lingering somewhere near your jugular. Your eyes fluttered closed as his hands languidly coaxed your hips together.

You couldn't bring yourself to remember just how it all started. The party? Yeah, definitely the party. You could remember the delicate but intoxicating scent of peach champagne from his lips. He tasted sweet. He reminded you of mild nights in Barnarock. The warmth of sand underneath your toes, the reflection of orangey-yellow lanterns and torches above an oasis pond, the massive number of stars above your head, the buzzing of conversation from locals and travelers alike in your ears, white noise but welcomed.

You could imagine Higgins right there with you, tanned from the relentless sun, dressed in a long-sleeved open-chested tunic with the sleeves rolled up, the yellow of the torches in his eyes making them honeyed and warm, one hand with a citrusy cognac that smelled like it could burn the hairs on your arm, the other pulled you closer to him. You swayed in time to songs that only you two could hear. Oh, you could only dream.

He was touch starved but didn't know how to handle physical affection. As much as you wanted him to progress things you were scared of chasing him off. He moved at his speed and it was a speed you were comfortable with. 

He pulled back and raised a hickory colored glass to his lips. Whiskey, maybe a bourbon. He looked down at you with raised brows and tilted the glass to your lips. You sipped the rich liquor, the hairs on your arms at attention. Yup, definitely bourbon. He kissed your lips, noting the new taste of the liquor mixed with something sweet. He took another sip and pressed his lips to yours; his tongue parted your lips. You felt a warm, burning liquid flood your taste buds. This was...new. He was feeling adventurous. He kept going, his hand on your waist, his tongue pinned down yours, it was like he was drinking you in. He pulled back, placed the glass down, and returned to your lips.

You knew about his liquid courage. He'd never do something like this if he didn't have a drink to wash down his shame...no that wasn't the right word.

His inhibitions?

His timidness?

None of those words worked as well as you wished they would. Higgins? Shy? _Ha!_ You're surprised some divine being; a deity of some sorts didn't strike you down for your ignorance. No, Higgins was not shy. If any case, he was more reserved, that was the word! And you had a private reservation. He was for you as if the sky was for the ocean; as if evil was for apathy; as if nights were for the dreamers. As if two were two so well that they were almost one. In Layman's Terms, you two might've been soulmates. But something made the both of you hesitate. Perhaps the fear of rejection, the fear of pouring the last bit of your soul into something that probably wouldn't work. You've been going for too long to stop now. If it didn't work... _God, if it didn't work._ What would you two do after that? How can you rebound from such a proclamation of passion?

He nipped your neck. You inhaled deeply and exhaled shakily.

"Don't think about it too much." He told you, but, how couldn't he? Would he just 'go with the flow'? No, that wasn't him. He was far too cautionary. 'Don't think about it too much'.

_'Don't think about it too much'!_

Think about it often. Pour your soul into it. Put your heart on your sleeve. Put your sanity on the line. Dance naked in the rain crying: 'I'm in love you! And fuck anybody who opposes it!'.

No, no, he wouldn't go that far for you and that made you ignore his touch.

"Hm?" He raised your chin, looking directly in your eyes. You and only you. Fuck! You loved that man deeply. No, you couldn't tell him, you couldn't bear the rejection. He kissed you, with every fiber of his being, you could feel all of him, and yet you couldn't. What was stopping him? What was stopping you?

You wondered what song he was dancing to. What made him drop his guard to dance with you? You looked over at his empty bottle of bourbon. You could feel him smile against your neck as he hooked his thumbs into your pants and pulled you closer.

"My rival," you felt his voice vibrate against your collarbone.

_Oh._

It always came back to that competition he insisted you two had.

"Twerp," he bit your neck. You pulled away to witness the look in his eyes. Wanting, needing, demanding. "Fucking look at me," he gripped your chin and forced you to look at him.

"What's going through that pretty little head?" He asked you, almost like he cared for the answer like he wasn't in his little world. What went on in Higgins' mind? You turned away from him, but you placed his hands on your hips. As if trying to tell him, 'you're the one in charge'. He held on to you, and when your hips dipped, he gripped tighter.

"Oh, you slut," he finished the statement by pulling you fiercely against him. "Dance with me." Not a question.

For the first time that night, you spoke, and of course, it was: "Fuck you."

He set the pace, your mistake, he fast on his feet. Relentless. You could feel the sexual frustration pour out of him back onto you. You couldn't help but stumble. His hand held your hip, the other had your shoulder, who taught him this?

"Who taught you this?" You asked. The second thing you said that night.

"Every day," he stopped, rolled his hips into yours and whisked you away from the center of the room, "I'd walk to the school on the outskirts of Sandrock."

He pulled you into a dip, and when he pulled you up, he gave you a peck on the lips, your face grew warm. 

"There was a girl who desperately wanted to be a part of the dance team. Me, being the kind soul I am, would practice with her, almost every day."

"Why should I care about this girl?"

"Jealous?"

"No." Maybe you were a bit jealous. You'd kill to see Higgins during his school days.

"It doesn't matter. The last day of school I fucked her and never saw her again," he smirked at you. That made your heart drop just a little. But you loved him. You turned away from him. He had the nerve to call _you_ a slut. You felt his rough hands grip your hips, you stumbled back into his arms.

"I'd never do that to you," he whispered in your ear and gently kissed below it. "You're stuck with me." You faced him once again.

"There's one thing you can do, the only thing you can do well." He grabbed your hand and placed it on the tent in his pants.

"Oh, Higgins," you looked away from him. Oh, oh no, that was embarrassing. You could see him breathing in your bashfulness. He lived for it. Your neck tingled with the cold air on your bruises and the blush from his intense staring. He grabbed your chin once more, this time gently turning your head from side to side. Admiring his work.

"Every time I look at those bruises, I want to fuck you until you're screaming my name."

"You're drunk!" You flushed, but you knew that wasn't the case.

"I'm sober," your eyes flickered down to his lips. There was a rosiness there that made you want to kiss them. He was two steps ahead of you. His lips met with yours in a hurried kiss, one that came with the sloppiness of drunkenness yet the passion of a man who realized something after thinking for so long.

Did he know you'd risk everything?

He pushed you onto his bed.

Did he know at that moment if his lips weren't on yours, you'd be declaring to the choir about your love for him?

He pushed your legs apart, situating himself snugly between your thighs.

Did he know that you'd give yourself up to him ten times over?

He leaned down, his lips at your earlobe yet again. "Not yet, not now, but until then..."

What right did he have? Dragging his hips against yours? Rutting his cock against your heat? Like he was some fucking teenager that didn't know what lust was. Like you were his pillow or his first lover. Dry humping you like he was afraid. Him? Afraid? _Ha!_

What right did you have? Humping him right back like a whore in heat? Gasping and moaning throughout. You could hear the bed beneath you rock with his ministrations. You could take him outside. Fuck him on the bench right beneath the tree. Who would see you? Arlo? Fuck Arlo! What did he know about the frustration you were feeling at that moment? What did he know about loving a man that didn't love himself? You'd work every day of your life if it meant Higgins was happy. Would he do the same?

You couldn't look him in the eyes as he used you to take out his frustrations. Even after you both rode out your high. Even after you felt the wet spot on your crotch from him. Even after you two French-kissed for twenty more minutes! You'd love to feel his cum on your fingers, your face, ugh, _slut!_

You pulled yourself from him. "Higgins," you looked away, trying to build enough confidence to tell him.

He wrapped his arms around you, trying to be as close to you as possible. He shushed you with a kiss. You didn't want any tears to fall, not in front of him, not now, not yet, until then you kissed him on the lips and made yourself fall asleep.


End file.
